


don't need a degree in astrophysics to know you're my star

by antikytheras



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Crack, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, bunnyribbit is mentioned in like one line, but it's all super minor so i didnt tag them, pharmercy implied in another line, there's side mchanzo and zaryamei so watch out for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antikytheras/pseuds/antikytheras
Summary: Genji doesn't have anyone to spend New Year's with, and then he does.





	don't need a degree in astrophysics to know you're my star

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be like 400 words but it got wayyyy too big so oops
> 
> unbetaed (sorry)
> 
> this was also originally supposed to be a christmas gift for [@greatsenpai](https://twitter.com/greatsenpai) but things happened and i only managed to finish this today orz (sorry x2)

For once, Genji finds himself alone on New Year’s Eve.

It’s not that he doesn’t have friends, no, not at all. In fact, he usually has the reverse of his current problem. Too many invitations, too many old-and-potentially-new friends, too little time. His notifications are usually ringing with likes and replies, and if he ever decided to post about his lonesome boredom, he’d be instantly bombarded with dinner invitations and the like. His brother has, on multiple occasions, scoffed at his absurd follower count on his assorted social media.

‘Do you even know half of the people who follow you?’ Hanzo had demanded, and Genji had shrugged helplessly in response. Unlike Hanzo, who had long mastered the art of softblocking and character judgement to carefully curate his follower list like an old man attacking his bonsai with gardening shears, Genji largely chose to ignore the size of his follower count and the ramifications that came with it.

Genji had waited until Hanzo brought his cup of water to his lips before replying, ‘I don’t know, how many porn bots do _you_ personally know, brother?’

To his disappointment, his ancient two-years-older brother did not choke on his drink. With only a roll of his eyes, Hanzo had left the subject alone after that.

But today, of all days, had to be the day that _everyone_ snagged themselves a cute New Year’s date. Groaning, Genji throws himself face down on his bed and reaches for his phone. The morning sun streams in through the open window, the beautiful snow-blanketed landscape outside mocking him for his ridiculously high standards when it comes to people he would actually date.

When he opens Instagram, he’s immediately greeted with sugary-sweet photo compilations of all the couples he knows. No matter how he tries to scroll away from the cotton candy levels of fluffy promises of another loving year together, it looks like absolutely _everyone_ he knows-and-cares-about is out on a date today.

After scrolling past a (ridiculously adorable) picture of bedhead Lucio and snoring Hana snuggling in bed together, he closes Instagram and opens up Twitter.

How strange. His eyes seem to be having some trouble processing the very first tweet on his timeline.

It’s Jesse, one of his favourite partners in crime, and there’s a photo attached to the tweet. There’s also a heart somewhere in the caption, which is strange because Jesse has never been the type to punctuate his words with anything but improper punctuation, let alone emojis. Genji’s sleep-crusted eyes pick up on the word “date,” but it seems wholly out of place when viewed against the person in the attached photo. It’s a very familiar person, but his brain insists that it can’t be that person, because surely his brother would never be caught giving _Jesse McCree_ the time of day, let alone modelling for him against an aesthetically-pleasing shipping container in what looks to be one of Jesse’s favourite shirts—

When reality finally hits him, he can’t contain his shell-shocked yelp of ‘What the fuck?!’

His eyes insist that the photo _is_ real, even if his brain short-circuits in trying to insist otherwise. Jesse McCree, the infamous, incorrigible bastard who actually takes pride in his smoking and drinking addiction, has somehow succeeded in wooing his _brother_ , the stuffiest, most proper person he knows.

If Genji didn’t feel so damn _lonely_ he’d almost be impressed.

Resolving to make proper fun of his brother later, he scrolls past the photo and catches up on the shenanigans of his online friends who live halfway across the world. He takes solace in the fact that _they_ don’t seem to be going anywhere, though on second thought, that might be because his early morning is their late evening.

With a sigh, he throws his phone aside, rolls over and goes back to bed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His plans for a lazy morning are interrupted by the incessant pings of incoming messages. He does his best to ignore them, but two minutes of the same sound repeating over and over is a bit much, even for him.

When his ringtone starts playing, he flings himself off his bed and stalks over to the general direction of the annoying noise. If he swipes to answer the call with no small amount of vehemence, well, can anyone really blame him?

‘Hey _fuckwit_ what the _fuck_ do you— Oh hi mom.’

His snarl quietens to the admonished whine of a kicked puppy. On the other end of the line, his lovely mother sighs.

‘Is this how you speak to your _anija_?’

Of course she would know who he was expecting. ‘He’s the only one who calls me at this hour.’

The fact that all his mother does is sigh again speaks volumes about how long he’s fuelled their fraternal vitriol. ‘Can’t you be nicer to him? He’s the only brother you have.’

He doesn’t really want to have this conversation right now. So he flops back into bed, rests his head on his pillow comfortably, and asks, ‘So why’d you call?’

He can picture his mother resting one hand on her grey-streaked head, massaging her temple in an attempt to stave off another brotherly-bickering induced headache. ‘When your father and I let you move out to live with your _anija_ , we made it very clear that you were expected to help out with the chores, right?’

Oh no, he did not like where this was going. ‘Yeah?’

‘When’s the last time you went grocery shopping?’

Genji objects, ‘ _He_ ’s the one with the car!’ but his mother is already speaking over him.

‘You’re living under his roof for _free_ , he even gave you a card to pay for groceries, and you can’t even be bothered to take a thirty minute walk to the store?’

Genji winces. ‘It’s freezing!’

‘What do you think we bought you that coat for? If you don’t get a move on in the next fifteen minutes I will be having a very serious talk with your father about bringing you home.’

_That_ gets him on his feet immediately. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going! Talk to you later, bye!’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On his way to the store, Genji checks his phone to find over two hundred messages from his brother. Most of them are some variation of “are you awake” and various (increasingly creative) death threats. About twenty of them, put together, form a veritable monster of a shopping list.

What catches his interest, though, is the sole message from Jesse, a simple warning of “run for your life.”

He snorts. Good to know that his drinking buddy’s still loyal to him. He’s always been the more charming brother, so maybe it’s not that much of a surprise after all.

Even in the _grocery store_ he feels acutely aware that he has no one to spend New Year’s Eve with. In their cosy little university town, the only people looking at eggs on a Sunday are either retired married couples or beleaguered boyfriends out on food runs smiling down at their phones. He’s out of place in the domestic scene, an attractive, well-dressed nineteen-year-old trudging through the store on his own in search of his brother’s preferred brand of detergent because aforementioned-ugly-brother is out on a _date_ with a cowboy.

Wow. That’s one hell of a thought.

He strolls down the produce aisle, leaning over his trolley and staring at a pile of eggplants intensely. He’s mentally debating on the merits of carp versus sea bass when there’s a shy tap on his shoulder.

It’s the voice that gets him.

‘Excuse me,’ comes the honey-smooth baritone, and Genji immediately whips his head back to find a smiling, bald boy with a bundle of books under one arm and a coffee in the other. He looks like he belongs in one of his brother’s university classes. Genji has heard plenty of complaints about upcoming exams from his brother, who would undoubtedly be studying if not for a certain insistent cowboy.

He really needs to stop thinking about his brother on his date.

When he brings his mind back to the present, he finds the boy still standing in front of him, patiently waiting for his response.

‘Uhh?’ he answers intelligently.

The boy’s radiant smile doesn’t shrink. ‘I know this is sudden, but would you like a pair of tickets to a movie? Something came up and my friend can’t make it.’

Ha, as if he even has anyone to go to the movies with.

Genji only realises that he’d blurted his thoughts out loud when the stranger in front of him gives a barely stifled huff of laughter.

‘Ah, what a pity,’ the boy sighs, but it’s not-quite-disappointment. He looks down at the strips of cardstock in his hands, clearly printed with the title of the latest superhero movie and a time two hours from now. ‘Perhaps I will find a pair of friends to foist these tickets off on.’

The deeper Genji falls into his social faux pas, the more intrigued he is by the boy. He doesn’t seem bothered by Genji’s odd behaviour— in fact, if anything, he looks amused. There’s a kind of peaceful serenity about him that’s so removed from the rude, curious gazes at his shiny bald head that it seems almost otherworldly.

‘I’m a devout Buddhist.’

Oh. Shit. He got caught staring.

‘S- Sorry,’ Genji hastily apologises, but the boy remains unperturbed.

‘It’s alright. I understand that hairless heads are something of a novelty around these parts.’

‘Yeah, people will stare at anything.’ Genji’s not sure what compels him to add, ‘I dyed my hair green to piss my brother off once and you will not _believe_ what random weirdos had to say about it.’

The boy is pocketing his tickets but he looks curious, attention entirely turned to Genji’s usual icebreaker story. ‘And what did they say?’

‘My favourite one was getting called a broccoli but I got a lot of bad lawn jokes too.’

The boy frowns. ‘Is that why you dyed it back?’

Genji laughs. ‘Nah, I just got tired of scrubbing green off the bathroom tiles.’

When Genji hears the boy’s unstifled laugh, it’s like he’s taken the first bite of a tantalisingly rich chocolate cake. Hearing it once is enough to satisfy his newfound thing for voices for _life_ but now he craves more, wants to hear it again and again until he finds the point where he could even _wonder_ about getting sick of it.

‘Wait a moment,’ Genji says, putting a hand up to stop the boy from politely taking his leave, ‘I could ask my brother if he wants the tickets? He’s on a date right now, he might want it.’

The boy’s eyes light up. ‘That would be very helpful. My thanks.’

When Genji ducks around a corner to make the call, he finds himself hoping that the boy will still be there when he gets back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Hey _anija_.’

‘What.’

‘Do you want a pair of movie tickets? Show starts in about two hours.’

‘I— You— Who did you mug!?’

He can hear Jesse’s full-bodied laugh in the background.

‘I didn’t mug anyone! This kid came up to me at the grocery store— _I’m buying your fucking shit by the way, so stop bringing Mother into this_ — and he asked if I wanted a pair of tickets since his friend couldn’t make it at the last minute so I thought I’d ask you. See? I’m a good brother!’

Hanzo sighs. ‘Why don’t you take the tickets? I already have plans.’

‘I… I don’t have anyone to go with, okay!’

Hanzo snorts. ‘I see. Now I know why you are being so magnanimous.’

‘Hey, not all of us can get lovestruck idiots thirsting after our grumpy asses for _years and years_.’

Jesse laughs again. ‘He put you on speaker, kiddo.’

‘Fuck you. Not you. I mean my brother.’

‘Quiet. Who’s this “kid” you speak of?’

‘He’s… bald? Friendly? Smiles a lot?’

There’s a few moments of silence. Genji hears his brother’s sigh, then pointedly ignores a few choice remarks about how he was raised.

At last, Hanzo firmly orders, ‘Do not toy with my classmate’s brother.’

‘Your classmate?’ Before Hanzo can reply, Genji pokes his head back and peeks down the aisle, pleased to find the boy still waiting there. Without any preamble, he yells, ‘Do you have a brother? And does he study law? Or economics?’

The boy blinks, surprised, then nods. Twice.

Genji ducks back behind the safety of a bread display. ‘Wow. Small town.’

‘Mondatta will _personally_ send you to the grave if you so much as hurt a hair on that boy.’

‘Ooh. Dangerous. Just how I like ‘em. Bye, _anija_.’

‘ _Are you listening to me you little—_ ‘

Beep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Genji learns that the boy has a brother in some of Hanzo’s classes, that the boy is the same age as Genji and studying astrophysics at the same university as Hanzo, that Mondatta (the brother) only takes advanced classes and that his own brother (Hanzo) is apparently extremely smart and the only “real challenge” to Mondatta’s almost-certain ranking at the top of their class.

None of that piques his interest as much as when he learns the boy’s name.

‘Call me Zenyatta.’

To stop himself from gushing in excitement, Genji quickly replies with a succinct, ‘I’m Genji.’

‘Genji,’ Zenyatta repeats, like a wine connoisseur savouring the flavour on his tongue. The near-reverence Zenyatta accords his name sends a flush from his head to his toes, but luckily they’re about to step out into the cold, so he can wave off Zenyatta’s concern (and there goes another cupid’s arrow to his heart) and blame the red on his cheeks on the bitter winter chill.

They stroll down the street, and Genji vaguely registers that this is the road back home.

‘I did not expect to find someone my age in this town,’ Zenyatta confesses, beaming at Genji with unabashed happiness. Genji feels so _inadequate_ sunned by his glowing smile.

And that’s how he ends up offering to help the boy look for people to offload his tickets on.

There’s just one small problem though.

Genji lifts the heavy grocery bags and laughs sheepishly. ‘I should probably put these down at home,’ he says, watching for any sign of disappointment that crosses Zenyatta’s face.

He hums, unfazed. ‘Perhaps we will find a willing candidate on the way.’

Genji could have swooned into his arms right there and then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they arrive at Hanzo’s apartment, Genji takes a moment to silently thank his brother for his strict rules on cleanliness.

Zenyatta is clearly impressed, eyeing the neatly arranged ornaments sitting on a dustless surface. ‘My brother could never hope for a home as neat as this.’

Genji shucks his shoes off by the door. ‘Are you very messy?’

‘I don’t think so, but when Mondatta isn’t studying, he is working. He does not like it when others misplace his belongings, so I prefer not to clean up his messes while he is away.’

‘Huh. Well my brother doesn’t do the dishes if I don’t get my shit in order and I _hate_ it when there are dishes left in the sink so yeah, our home is usually pretty clean.’

Zenyatta waits by the entrance, and Genji does his best to pack all the groceries into the proper cupboards and drawers as quickly as he can. He’s sorting the milk by expiry date when he spots the box of leftover rice going stale in the back.

His heart sinks.

There’s no way he can do this without ruining absolutely any chance he’d ever had with Zenyatta, but he’s not risking his brother’s entirely-justified wrath on a thirst-fuelled sacrifice of some perfectly edible ingredients.

So he mournfully turns back and calls out, ‘Hey, Zen?’

‘Yes?’ comes the curious reply.

Genji sighs. ‘Sorry, but I’m gonna have to stay in and cook lunch with leftovers before they go bad. I don’t think I can help—’

‘Oh?’ Genji hears Zenyatta kick off his shoes, then witnesses him pause and turn back to arrange the discarded footwear neatly by the door before flitting back to him like an inquisitive mockingbird, so excited and energetic that it makes him feel downright _fluffy_. ‘Genji, you cook?’

For some reason, having Zenyatta by his side instead of (potentially) running out the door helps temper the sting of his eventual disappointment, so he manages to cheerfully reply, ‘There’s only so much McDonald’s you can have before getting sick of it.’

Zenyatta laughs. Genji wants to hear the sound again.

‘And how much McDonald’s is that?’

Caught up in the euphoria of his infatuation, Genji forgets to embellish the story when he tells it. ‘I moved in with my bro about a month ago and I’ve been cooking every day since last Thursday so— two weeks, maybe?’

And yet Zenyatta still looks so fascinated by his (boring) tale. ‘Only two weeks? I think Mondatta has been living off Domino’s for the past two months— Oh!’ He claps his hands over his mouth, eyes wide with surprise.

‘ _Oh_?’ Genji echoes, smirking, though with how _adorable_ Zenyatta looks it probably comes across more like a smitten smile.

‘Please don’t tell your brother I said that.’

‘For something as juicy as that I’ll need a _good_ bribe, sir.’ Genji tries to waggle his eyebrows and Zenyatta snorts.

‘Well then. I’ll do you the favour of tasting your food.’

Wow, Zenyatta’s being _bold_ , and Genji _really likes that_. Oh no. _Oh no_.

His throat got really dry all of a sudden. Wow. When did that happen? And it doesn’t help seeing Zenyatta’s eyes flick over to his Adam’s apple when he swallows, lingering with something warm and appreciative and yet unfathomable swimming in the depths of his dark, dark eyes.

‘Sure!’ Genji’s voice _breaks_ like he’s a middle schooler with a crush all over again.

‘Excellent.’ Zenyatta beams, all angelic and sweet, clearing his mind like the sunbeams piercing through dark clouds of shame. ‘I do hope my dietary restrictions don’t cause too much trouble? If it’s—’

‘No, no no no, of course not!’ Genji is quick to reassure the frowning saint, bless his soul. Just a night ago, he’d been fighting with his brother over the sliced pork belly Hanzo had made for dinner, but in this moment he’s never been more grateful for their borderline carnivorous diets. ‘We have lots of vegetables and tofu leftover from last night. Do you want some miso?’

In a politely restrained movement, Zenyatta inclines his head, but the excitement shining in his eyes is enough to short-circuit Genji’s better judgement.

He pulls out The Problem Child.

The Problem Child is a beautiful, ridiculously expensive cast iron pan that Genji had bought on a drunken run through a local department store back home. For some reason, the food he makes with the thing is _divine_ , but every time he uses it, he pays a heavy price— Hanzo absolutely refuses to clean the thing. Which means he’ll have to cook _and_ do the dishes. Which Genji absolutely hates.

Also he almost killed himself flipping flaming steaks and pancakes once, but, well, no one needs to know about that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘That was _very_ good,’ Zenyatta sighs contentedly, leaning against Genji’s shoulder. ‘I think I over-ate. I’m ready to take a nap now.’

‘Hold on, Sandman.’ Genji chuckles, looping an arm round his waist to steady him (just in case). ‘You can sleep in the movie theatre.’

They’re trekking back to the nearby mall through the snow, bundled up in furs and scarves and leaning in to each other for warmth. In the distance, so far away it looks to be the size of a small baseball, a bright pink ball of wool and assorted furs gradually grows larger and larger, until it becomes apparent that someone (or, well, _two_ someones) is barrelling towards Genji at full speed.

‘Genji!’

Zenyatta looks at Genji. ‘Do you know them?’

He’s not sure _how_ exactly he identifies the faceless bundle, but he takes an intelligent shot in the dark. ‘Yeah. That’s Mei and her girlfriend.’ One of the Instagram couples he’d scrolled past this morning.

Mei’s fair face, pink with the cold, pops out of the giant assortment of fabrics bundled around her and her partner. ‘Thank goodness you’re not alone!’

What.

‘You haven’t tweeted all day! I thought maybe you got so depressed you just, I dunno, _slept_ all day.’

‘Okay, look— just because you’re correct doesn’t mean you’re _right_ ,’ Genji hisses, and Zenyatta hastily stifles his laugh.

The two lovebirds notice the boy’s presence.

‘Hello,’ Zenyatta greets warmly, unintimidated by Zarya’s piercing gaze and Mei’s calculating smile. Genji might have fallen in love all over again.

‘Stop flexing,’ he hisses, this time aimed at Zarya.

The gym junkie shrugs, unaffected. ‘When am I seeing you in the gym again, _twig_?’

‘Oh _come on_ , I have to cook!’

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk,’ Zarya tuts, wagging a finger menacingly. ‘Let me guess: you haven’t been following that meal plan, have you?’

‘I’m a broke student! I can’t _afford_ that massive jar of protein!’

The whole time, Zenyatta watches the exchange with no small measure of amusement. Under cover of the bright orange scarf wrapped around the both of their upper bodies, Genji feels the fabric shifting aside, and then suddenly there’s a hand pinching his (admittedly) softer-than-expected arms.

He yelps.

All eyes land on Zenyatta, who continues smiling beatifically.

Silence.

Thankfully, Mei decides to put him out of his misery.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet and bubbling over with mischievous joy, she inquires, ‘So, what are you watching!’

‘Oh, it’s— We—’ Fuck, did he ever learn what movie Zenyatta got those tickets for?

This time, it’s Zen who takes pity on him. ‘Star Wars,’ he replies promptly, pulling the tickets out of his pocket. Genji doesn’t miss the meaningful eye contact between the girlfriends, and he steels himself for the teasing of a lifetime. But just then, Zenyatta’s eyes land on the timing printed on the movie ticket and widen in surprise. ‘Oh, we really should be getting a move on. Movie’s starting soon, and I do enjoy watching the pre-show advertisements.’

Genji knows a lifeline when it’s being thrown in his face. ‘Yeah! Gotta go! Bye!’

He grabs Zenyatta’s hand and _runs_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zarya snorts, but she watches them go with fondness in her smile.

‘Didn’t think our sparrow would ever settle down.’

Mei hums, extending one gloved hand palm-up.

‘See, I _told_ you that you shouldn’t bet against me.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Throughout the movie, Zenyatta gives very interesting reactions. They’re all quiet and non-disruptive— in fact, if Genji weren’t looking, he wouldn’t have noticed anything at all. But it’s so captivating, watching the spectrum of emotions dancing across his face with each and every revelation, each moment of hope and anticipation and the inevitable disappointment of despair.

The corner of his lip twitches upward at the infamous shirtless scene, and Genji can’t help the snort that escapes his own lips.

When the credits roll across the screen, Genji realises that he probably spent the movie ticket watching _Zenyatta_ instead of the actual movie.

Oh well. He’s seen Star Wars like, five times already. This is probably his favourite viewing though.

Zenyatta doesn’t gush after the movie. Neither does he complain about the deviation from the canon, or the distinctly different artistic direction the series has been going through. All things that his other friends have done after the movie— in fact, Lucio had immediately ordered a Rey figurine and Fareeha had gone through the whole movie clutching the BB-8 plushie Angela had given her on a whim and then lambasting the copious plot holes that (apparently) existed throughout the entire movie.

Zenyatta’s reaction is underwhelming, but nicely so. He just leans in close and sighs contentedly. ‘That was fun.’

‘Yeah.’ It really was. ‘Wanna grab a bite?’

Neither of them bought popcorn from the kiosk, so they both have enough of an appetite for dinner. They end up at Subway, Zenyatta eating a veggie wrap and Genji demolishing a footlong sub. Genji pays for their mains (ignoring Zenyatta’s protests) and Zenyatta gets back at him by ordering “too many cookies, oh dear, I can’t possibly finish these” so Genji obligingly inhales the chocolate chip cookies while Zenyatta munches on white chip macadamia nut cookies.

‘Rey is clearly the superior Jedi,’ argues Zenyatta, vehemently chomping down on his cookie.

‘Look,’ Genji mumbles through a large mouthful of chocolate chip, ‘you can’t deny that Mark Hamill aged like fine wine.’

‘Yes, but _Luke_ grew to become a crybaby.’

Genji snorts, pausing to gulp down his iced tea to cleanse his palate. ‘He definitely redeemed himself at the end. What a badass.’

‘Let us agree to disagree,’ Zenyatta says placatingly, and Genji rolls his eyes, albeit smiling all the way.

They take a leisurely stroll back to Zenyatta’s place, Genji insisting on walking him back in exchange for him doubling all the way back to his place earlier that day. It’s even colder after sundown, the road home illuminated only by the warm glow of streetlamps and phone screens. Genji never has to ask which way they’re going, too captivated by the joy shining in his eyes and the serene smile seemingly etched onto his face.

When they regrettably slow to a stop at the entrance to Zenyatta’s apartment building, the winter winds are howling but Genji hardly feels the cold with Zenyatta pressed to his side. When he pulls away, the cold socks him in the face.

‘My cheeks are cold,’ he complains, and a devious gleam enters Zenyatta’s eyes.

He reaches for Genji’s wrist and tugs him in close, little puffs of steam exhaling with each breath as he laughs. Snowflakes catch in his lashes as he closes his eyes, leaning in close and looping his arms around Genji’s neck.

They’re close enough that their breaths mingle, and Genji stares at the smoke-like steam in fascination. Twined together like dragons warming one another with tongues of flame, Genji feels his racing heart slow as he takes in every detail of this moment, the cold barely hurting his lungs with how gently he’s breathing.

He _feels_ Zenyatta smiling against his mouth, and he can’t help but smile too. They press their lips together in a slow, chaste kiss.

Unfortunately, it feels like Zenyatta pulls back too soon, but he leans forward to rest his forehead against Genji’s.

‘You wanted a kiss, didn’t you? Back at your place, when you spoke of bribes.’

Genji shrugs, complacent and cocky now that he’s landed his catch. ‘Aim for the moon and land on the stars.’

Zenyatta scrunches his nose and it’s adorable, as always. ‘Genji. I major in _astrophysics_.’

‘And I’ll take private lessons with you _anytime_.’

‘That’s also a terrible— Ugh.’Zenyatta gives a little groan of distress, but he’s also covering his face with his hands and a very _interesting_ swarthy shade of red.

Genji laughs and eagerly (yet oh-so-gently) presses his lips to the very tip of Zenyatta’s nose, the only part of him peeking out from between his fingers. It’s a brief— very brief— little peck, much less exciting compared to their kiss just moments before, even the feather-light brush of warm skin is enough for Genji to _feel_ that he’s stolen Zenyatta’s breath away.

He knows that if he speaks, he’ll definitely ruin the moment, but it’s not like Zenyatta would ever love him any less for it.

‘And I’m _your_ terrible.’

And just like Genji had hoped, Zenyatta’s smiling when he agrees. ‘Absolutely _terrible_.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/_antikytheras)


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